


The Lost Fourth Romance of Chretien De Troyes

by secace



Category: Arthurian Literature - Fandom, Arthurian Mythology, Romans | Arthurian Romances - Chrétien de Troyes
Genre: Gen, he deserves it, where agravaine is the protagonist, yes its a parody of chretien de troyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secace/pseuds/secace
Summary: Ill be real I wrote this like seven months ago and didn't give it even a cursory read through before posting, so my characterization is probably off from how i write it now. but whateveralso YES i said fourth u think i care about eric and enide?? about cliges??? fuck no
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Lost Fourth Romance of Chretien De Troyes

**Author's Note:**

> Ill be real I wrote this like seven months ago and didn't give it even a cursory read through before posting, so my characterization is probably off from how i write it now. but whatever
> 
> also YES i said fourth u think i care about eric and enide?? about cliges??? fuck no

The Good People of the Discord Server have requested of me to compose a romance, which with great joy I undertake as they are the best and noblest persons alive, and no collection of knights and ladies could be found more deserving. Thus Lou is beginning this book of the Knight of the Shattered Blade.

On Pentecost, the court of the sometimes noble King Arthur, whom all good men should look to and learn to be courteous and brave, as in opposition to his behaviour, threw a feast too great and marvellous for this author to describe. 

Many things were done and discussed there amongst the knights and ladies. Some talked of Love, many of the great feats they or others had accomplished, and as the sun made its egress and the moon its entrance, the discussion of Love grew less dignified, and that of feats more fanciful, till the two topics were from many parties completely mutually inextricable.

My Gracious Lord Sir Gawain, seated quite near the king in a position of honour, said little of his own deeds, for though he was a great knight of much worship, he was perfectly courteous. Indeed, he had no need to heap praise on himself, for all those gathered were doing so for him, both knights and ladies effusive and unnecessarily detailed in their compliments and reminiscence. He had recently returned from another great quest, which was much talked of.

The Great King Himself had fallen asleep, for he had partaken much of the free-flowing wine and little of the conversation, which had long ago passed from martial entertainments. The queen was directing the exchange of tales with the grace and wit that befit her station and reputation, so as that her interference was unnoticed by all but My Lord and Close Personal Friend Sir Gawain, who wondered privately at her intent but said nought of it. 

At the ending of a tale shared by the Good Lady Sparrow, in which several varieties of prowess were extolled on the part of My Lord and Best Friend Forever Sir Gawain, there was a scoff from Sir Kay.

Sir Kay was a sarcastic and quarrelsome man, who despite or partially because of this was well regarded by the best of those at court, including it’s most gracious queen, it’s heir and it’s champion. 

“By God, Gawain, have not we heard enough of your exploits? Has not anyone else in this court of wastrels and coxcombs accomplished anything in a martial field or a bed worth talking about? You should be ashamed, Gawain.”

My Lord Sir Gawain, courteous as always, did not take offence at this, nor feel shame, speaking thus in his own defence: “I have said nothing of myself, not directed anyone else to. If there is fault it lies not with me.” He was too polite to say who the fault did lie with, but, I profess, they all were thinking it. 

“That sounds as if it was a challenge, good Sir,” The queen noted, with a thoughtful gaze on the other knights, as if to gently recriminate them for their failures. One knight, in particular, felt the sting of this implication and swore to himself to amend this state. As this knight was making promises to himself he did not intend to fill, in the way men lie to themselves, entered the room an opportunity for this evasion to falter. 

Into the great hall burst a mounted man, his arms white and violet, tall and well-armed. He went before the king and his barons and addressed him discourteously, forgoing an address or greeting.

“There is great dishonour in your court, My Lord Arthur,” the knight accused. “That one of your knights can be killed and go unavenged, the killer unnamed. I demand recompense.”

The king, emerging from sleep, said nothing, and the queen spoke for them all. “Sir, we will do everything compelled by honour to right this, should you tell us who the aggrieved may be, and indeed who you yourself are.”

“I cannot, for love of my life, disclose my name, for your court is rife with murderous traitors, whether or not you know it. I cannot say who the man was, other than that he was one of your knights. I demand you send your most capable knight to avenge him, who must swear before you all, on all his honour, to kill the man who committed this crime.” 

“For the honour of my court,” the king announced, “I shall grant you this. Who among you will take up this quest?”

My Honourable and Courageous Lord and Love Sir Gawain addressed his uncle the king, who sat up straighter at his glance. “Lord, I would accept this challenge, if you should so wish.”

The semi-good King Arthur would have gladly granted his nephew this, and was about to. But there was another considering this challenge. In the mind of the knight who made many promises to himself, there was a battle between Shame and Pride, which together made up a great deal of him. Pride of some sort made a reluctant victory, and he stood, knocking over his drink and the sword of his brother Sir Gaheris next to him. 

“Gawain, wait--” 

The knight stopped as all the eyes of the court turned to him, and his breath was stopped a moment in his chest, which was filled with mortification. 

“Ah- My Lord Sir Gawain.” He corrected miserably, “I would ask to take this quest for you, if I may. Please.”

There was a general titter from the court, for his gaff and his uncharacteristic correction both, for he was known to be discourteous and quick-tongued only with insults and never compliments or niceties.

My Courteous and Perfect Lord Sir Gawain responded in amusement to this request. “Agravaine,” he said, “I confess I do not imagine this to be something you should wish. But I can see from your face you are serious, so of course, I cede it to you, if you are sure you are capable of the task.”

“I am, my Lord brother,” said Agravaine, though he was not sure at all, Doubt making a familiar home in his heart. 

The king granted this as well. “Very well, nephew, your brother may attempt it if he indeed believes himself able.”

There was no one who was not disappointed, including the nameless petitioner, though he bore this exchange wordlessly. Though he was told it was unnecessary, you can be certain Agravaine wished to set out at once and be gone from court. He quickly armed himself, and his horse was led into the courtyard, where the strange knight was waiting, still wordless. 

Agravaine mounted and they set off that evening, and only his brothers wished him well on the endeavour, the rest of the ladies and knights lamenting the honour of the king, having failed to send Sir Gawain or Sir Lancelot, who was present but hadn’t been paying attention.

The pair rode off, the strange knight setting a direction with brusque reticence. Agravaine matched the silence, the knowledge that he was not wanted on this quest stilling his usually acerbic tongue. After several hours of riding, Necessity overcame Shame and he asked the knight where they were going and for what purpose.

“To Listeneise, and with precious little purpose now, that the court has sent you and not Gawain.” The knight answered, and Agravaine was ashamed, and being so grew angry. 

“If I have so little use to help you perhaps I shall harm you,” Agravaine threatened, though he hoped in Cowardice that the man would desist. “perhaps I should strike your unmannered head from your neck, Sir.”

The knight laughed at his challenge. “Know well you could not defeat me if you should attempt it.”

“If you are so much greater than I am,” Agravaine demanded, “Why should you accept my help? Would not you be satisfied to settle your quarrel alone?”

“You may go back if you wish.”

But Agravaine could not, for Pride, go back, and so said he would see through the quest, wanted or no.

“It will not end happily for you,” the knight warned.

“Nothing ever does.” 

“Then I abide you,” The knight said, and there was amusement in his voice, at which Agravaine took great offence, but said nothing. 

The knight stopped when they had ridden some distance from Camelot, and the sun was fully down.

“We shall not reach Listeniesse for several days, let alone tonight, and must for the good of the horses and ourselves halt here.” He dismounted, and Agravaine did the same, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword ever suspicious of treachery.

“I am dismayed for you, Sir Agravaine of Orkney,” the knight said, the addressee bristling at some observed insult within the guise of formality. “That by chance you should agree to avenge a member of a family you despise. The knight who was slain is Sir Drunor, of Listeneise.”

Agravaine was silent for a long moment, as he abashedly attached the name to its owner, who was the son of the late Sir Pellinore. Sir Pellinore had dishonourably killed the father of Gawain and his brothers, and Gawain had killed him in recompense, and now both families were balanced on the edge of violence as to two bound lions.

“That is a private matter, and none of your concern, Sir.”

“I promise you Sir Agravaine, that it is my concern as much as it is yours, for, in truth, the man murdered was my younger brother.”

Agravaine was surprised and discomfited. “Are you then Sir Aglovale?”

The knight removed his helmet as if to make an answer.

“Lamorak,” Agravaine said, and was greatly unhappy at this. For his involvement with the feud was only in that he followed his brothers, but his quarrel with Sir Lamorak was personal. He had what he felt to be a great dislike for the knight, stemming from a number of impolitic comments on the others part and a lack of self-understanding.

“If your answer is unchanged, let us decamp. If not, I suppose we must prepare for a fight.”

“So this is now essentially a kidnapping,” Agravaine said, removing his hand from his sword and forcing himself not to take a step back. “My answer is unchanged.”

Sir Lamorak was glad to hear this, for he had no desire to fight Sir Agravaine, despite knowing himself to be stronger and more skilled. They continued along the road for only a short while till coming upon a keep, where they were greeted at the gates by a young woman. She offered them lodging, for she recognized Agravaine to be a brother of My Lord Sir Gawain, with whom she fancied herself in Love.

Attendants came forward and removed the knights of their armour, and brought fine fur lined cloaks for them to wear. The young lady whose name was Adeline, led them to a fine room with two well made beds. On the far wall was a great sword, the finest either had ever seen, even Excalibur itself which Gawain wielded. They asked Adeline about the sword, and she told them of it:

“That sword is so fine, that any blow it strikes shall be a mortal one. But if there is even a shred of cowardice which emerges in the heart of its wielder, it shall shatter.” Then she left them.

“So, it must be a great blade only in theory,” Lamorak observed, “for it self-selects for idiots.”

“There are great knights who could wield it,” Agravaine argued, thinking of his brother who he was sure would be worthy, and Lancelot, though Agravaine hated he who rode in the cart.

“Oh, of course. But a man must be incredibly stupid to have no fear, and any smart man would know it, therefore only the very stupid and thus the fearless will take it up. But if they are stupid enough to carry it, they shall within short order kill either themselves or a loved one and bring the whole sorry story to an end.”

“You can be stupid and a coward,” Agravaine said, thinking of himself.

“Can you be smart and brave?”

“No.”

“Then you aren't going to take it?”

Agravaine was vexed by this, and for a moment did not respond. If he should take it, he would admit to stupidity, but if he shouldn't, he would admit to cowardice. He had not the imagination to say what his brother would do, nor the wisdom to see what he himself should do.

So they went to their beds to take their rest, the question unresolved. At dawn the next morning, the lady entered the room to wake them and saw the sword gone from the wall. 

“Whichever of you has taken my sword,” Adeline said, “must owe me a favour when I ask it.”

“I took it,” Agravaine said, having decided that cowardice was a worse sin than stupidity. “What must I do to repay you.”

“I wish to be wed to your brother, Sir Gawain,” Adeline said.

“That's not something in my power to give.” Agravaine tried to explain, “He doesn't wish to be married and I cannot convince him otherwise even if I wanted to. Pick someone else.”

“Well, I don't wish to marry you.”

“Whyever not?” Lamorak asked curiously, and neither party addressed this.

“I was not offering, thank you.”

Adeline thought for a long moment. “Could I just spend the night with him then, and then you bribe some other Lord to marry me?”

“By Saint Peter,” said Lamorak, “is there nothing else you want?”

“No, there is not.”

Agravaine was growing impatient, knowing there was a great deal of travel till they reached Listeneise, and wanting it to be over soon, the sooner to depart his travelling companion. 

“Look, if you really must, I agree to help you. When I see my brother next I will direct him to you, is that sufficient?”

“And then you'll get me married to someone? I don't care who,” She pressed. Agravaine agreed to this and they left quickly. He took the sword with him, but made no intention of using it.

“So you chose bravery. That's disappointing.” Sir Lamorak said, “This is more a matter of delicacy.”

“Shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you,” Agravaine threatened, though he concurred.

“You're free to try,” Lamorak answered, his words perhaps containing more meaning than was absorbed by their hearer.

Agravaine, as was his usual state, was in an uncompanionable mood and they rode on in silence till well past noon, when they stopped for the sake of the horses, dismounting to lead then at a walk for a span. Agravaine had been thinking the whole morning, so much he could hardly have noticed had they rode right into the sea, and his suspicious nature was roused. He was wondering at the nature of the quest and its purposes, for there were many things that to him seemed odd and incongruent.

“Why did you go to the court of my Lord Uncle, King Arthur for assistance. There are few knights your better at a tourney or in battle, I know for I have watched you in the tilt--” Agravaine stopped, then fearing any response hurried on. “And what is the point of returning to Listeneise? I do not flatter myself to say there is so much I could see when it came to what evidence of himself the killer could leave, that you could not yourself see. If you really want to know, you should have gone to the Lady Morgan.”

“I went to Camelot as soon as I heard word, and have not yet reviewed the scene myself. Besides, I have my own suspicions as to the villain of this tale and I promise, it all worked out very neatly. Except--”

“Except I came instead of my brother,” Agravaine finished, and though his heart longed to be angry he fell short into misery. “Who is the best knight in the world, and could have done whatever was required, and I am-- not.”

When Lamorak heard these words he was taken aback. “It is true, I had intended for the quest to be taken by Sir Gawain, but not, I promise you, by virtue of any martial prowess or superior character. In all honesty, if I should have a choice between the two of you for a travelling companion I should in any other circumstance prefer yourself.”

Agravaine believed from unfortunate past experience this to be some cruel jest, and dismissed him, being so overcome by the ensuing bitterness he failed to look deeper into the preceding words, and as such failed to gain understanding of the situation.

They continued to ride along for several days, North up to the kingdom of Listeneise, which was a scenic and lovely country, marked with ribbons of lake and low rugged mountains. I don't know what conversation they had, though it must not have been horribly unpleasant, for there were no major incidents, and in fact were it not for his own bemused bias Agravaine would have said he found the company quite more than bearable.

On the road, when they were close to their destination, they were dismayed to see a bridge, which was guarded by many knights, ten twenty, thirty arrayed themselves in front of the bridge, which appeared to be a completely normal bridge not made of sword, and that was at least a relief. Despite this, they were both very displeased to see this sight, Agravaine the most so, for he was only passing well in combat and knew himself to be a coward. 

“If you wish to pass you must make combat with us all,” hollered the leader knight. 

“This is my land, and they congregate upon it and make threats!” Lamorak exclaimed in anger. “I shan't be satisfied till I see them dead or defeated, all of them.”

“There are thirty of them and one of you,” Agravaine said, not counting himself at all. Lamorak dismissed this.

“Very well,” said Lamorak to the recreant knight. “One at a time or all at once? I leave the choice to you.”

The leader knight, who was a recreant and a coward, was taken aback by the confidence of this challenger. Nevertheless Arrogance bolstered the knight, as by the numbers of men as his command, indeed it looked as if a small wood had sprung up in front of the river Derwent, from all the lances.

“One at a time,” He answered, for Arrogance caused this, his wicked want to mislead men to ruin guiding the knight to believe greatly in his own power. For indeed Arrogance is a powerful and dangerous Master, which though he is subservient to Love is nevertheless a great manipulator of the actions of men.

“Very well. Allow us to arm ourselves and then I shall engage with you,” Answered Sir Lamorak, and they did so. The leader did not go out first himself, but sent another. This man was handily defeated, as Sir Lamorak, whose arms were white and violet, fought well and handsomely. He continued to do so as more knights were sent out, performing great deeds of chivalry to defeat ten, twenty, thirty knights. Anyone who was watching would have taken delight in these great feats or arms, except for Agravaine, who was made discomfited and abashed by his own feelings on the matter, and was besides still concerned about the superior numbers.

And indeed it could not be said his concern was entirely misplaced. As the last knight except for the leader fell, the violet challenger drew back. He was hard pressed following so many combats, shield bent and broken, arms tired and blood running down his armour.

“I would not force you to it, Sir, but as this is a joint venture I would ask of you to take the final combat,” he said, voice weak for he was badly shaken from the many blows received. Sir Agravaine said nothing for a long moment, and his companion went on. “I will take the last fight if you so desire, but very much doubt my chances at this juncture.”

“No,” Agravaine answered finally, though his mind fought against it, “I shall take this fight, for it would be shameful for you to go against thirty, and I not face even one.”

He prepared him to fight, girding on both his sword and the one from the Lady Adeline, and rode out to meet the recreant guard of the bridge. They seemed to be of even match, the recreant having more strength and size than skill, but those being sufficient as his opponent was in equal parts hesitant and reckless at all the wrong times, though he knew better how and where to land a blow, would he allow himself to. 

But the fight wore on, and Agravaine struggled to keep up his guard. One lucky and powerful stroke from the opponent split his shield, and before he could recover another struck his sword from his hand, and left it dented beyond use. It looked at if now he would perish, for the other had no honour or intention of allowing him to yield. In desperation, he drew the other sword and struck out wildly, and it buried itself, against his own will, in the chest of the recreant, who fell, for it was a mortal wound.

Then a cracking sound rang out, the bloodied sword shriven, and shattered. Agravaine now held nothing but a useless hilt and the jagged ends of the blade. 

He felt great Shame, for now he supposed himself to be both a fool and a coward. If his companion thought as much he did not say it, but praised Agravaine modestly for his victory, in a way as well intentioned as it was misinterpreted. 

They could not continue on far that day, for the seriousness of Lamorak’s injuries and the weakness resulting from blood lost, which necessitated them to stop and dress the many bleeding cuts.

The next day they rode out and reached the keep of Listeneisse, where the shameful slaughter had occurred, and were welcomed into the keep by two young maidens, and shown to fine rooms, their armor removed and replaced by fur lined cloaks. Sir Lamorak requested of the maidens that they be shown the body of Sir Drunor, and reluctantly the maidens led them unto it, where it was arranged in the cellar on a cloth, where the coolness of the air would keep his form from decay.

“Oh,” said Agravaine, and he was off put. “I did not expect him to be in multiple… pieces.”

“I did, myself, suspect he would be in this state,” Lamorak said. 

The man's head was resting, like a loyal dog at the feet of its master, placed below the rest of the body on the black cloth, grown darker where into it the lifesblood had seeped into the rich velvet of the cloth. It was a very neat severing, which they both could ascertain, though neither commented on this or what it might mean.

Lamorak had consulted those who lived and worked in the keep there, and related thus the events; that Drunor, who was known as a quarrelsome man, had met with an armoured stranger outside the gates, as a churl who was working in the field related. Sir Drunor demanded a fight of the man, or to leave the land, as it belonged to Drunor and his family. The man refused, and said he would like to pass through in friendship, as they were both knights of the Lord King Arthur. A second time Drunor demanded this, making great insult, though he was in a right to demand it. Again the man refused. 

Finally, Sir Drunor demanded the name of this man, who told it, in too low a voice to be heard. Drunor grew angry at this name, whatever it was, and drew his sword, saying this man must fight or flee. Then, as quick as to be an astonishing sight, the man drew and struck Drunors head from his shoulders, in one stroke, and crimson blood flowed freely upon the ground like rain. So strong was this stroke that it cleaved cleanly through the metal armour at the neck of the victim as if it were cloth. Then the man mounted his horse and rode off.

When the tale was done being related, Agravaine stood in discontent, for a poisonous thought was growing in his mind like a thornbush.

“It must have taken great strength, to cut so cleanly and swiftly through metal, flesh, chain and bone,” Lamorak said. “I do know what few might be capable of it.”

“At what position was the sun in the sky when this occurred,” Agravaine asked, fearing terribly the response, which traitorously came as he suspected, for the time had been noon, which Lamorak told him. When Agravaine did not speak again for a long time, the man gave him a measuring glance and spoke thus:

“Do you see then why I asked for your brother? Do you agree with my assessment?”

But still Agravaine did not speak, his thoughts were such that he utterly forgets himself, for his mind and his heart did trouble him greatly both in equal part. He once again was Shamed, for he felt his own foolishness greatly, wondering if all those at court had known the result of this quest before he had ever left, that he was the only one deceived, and even now they were laughing at him.

“It was a very clever plan.” He told Lamorak weakly. “That once he had sworn, he would be forced to by his oath reveal himself as the murderer, and then slay himself, or to break publically his oath and end his honour and that of the king. You must have been very angry when I ruined it.”

Sir Lamorak did not say anything.

“He would have found some way out of it. My brother always does.”

Still Sir Lamorak said nothing, but looked very unhappy.

“Look at me, Sir,” said Agravaine, growing angry, “there was never anything that could be done, even if I was long dead as you surely wish, for he is the greatest knight who ever lived or ever will!”

“We should not have this conversation here. Let us go out to the hall or a private chamber. Surely you wish something to eat or drink, or rest,” Lamorak guessed hopelessly, and made a gesture to move to the stairs and from the cellar.

“So you intend not to kill me but to make me a guest. Or is it only then that you do it, to bring all the greater shame?” Agravaine demanded, for he was angry, not at Lamorak but that all things should exist as they are. “Or do you think my words defile the dead? I don't care. If Gawain thought he should be dead, he was not worthy of life, they would say it in court, and they will say it when he kills you!”

Then he froze, the weight of his words settling heavy in his mind, and he was afraid at what the other knight would do.

“I do not wish you dead, and will not see you so.” And this was all Lamorak said, and did not stop Agravaine from leaving the cellar though he asked him not to leave, that some accord could be reached, said a number of compromising and unbelievable things which could not be true.

But Agravaine left the cellar and the keep, though it was growing dark, and setting off down the road alone, back to Camelot. He rode through the night, till he was on the edges of Listenise, and only then broke for brief uneasy sleep, and for the sake of his horse. He knew he had only the appearance of arms, for the hilt which rested in the scabbard was attached to nothing but a few jagged remnants. He had no thought of what he should do upon return, dreading the great Shame he must endure, but with nowhere, no lands of his own, to hide in.

There was unhappiness, also, at Listeniesse.

“You have really ruined a great deal of things for many people, you know,” Lamorak remarked to the body on the floor. 

“It's true, I had an excellent plan to either kill or greatly shame Sir Gawain for his arguably justified killing of you-- do not be hurt, you were being quite dishonourable and quarrelsome-- but that was an end I did not even desire, to fuel the fire of a feud I dearly wish to smother. I suppose I am the fool here, for acting so rashly. Revenge is horribly overrated.”

Drunor, as he was dead and thus incapable, said nothing.

“You could not manage to have been killed by anyone else? Anyone else who isn't the best knight in the world, or whose brother I- oh, don't look at me in such a way. You have your head between your own legs, what could you possibly know? You've made fools of all of us!”

Such were his thoughts, which being spoken changed little. Then with a sigh, Lamorak departed, having grown inpatient with his brother, although Drunor was being far more courteous now then he had been alive.

Agravaine was gone from the country of Listeniesse by the morning, though part of him was sorry to see it gone. It was a lovely country of green and lakes and hills, unlike the freezing and rocky Northern isles of Orkney. But he felt he had no recourse but to return and tell his brother everything, for Sir Gawain, he thought, would find some solution. His Pride was abandoned, for he had no hope of keeping what tatters of it there were from dragging in the mud, now he had failed so miserably, and he wept bitterly as he rode.

He passed a day meeting no one, lost in his own thoughts and at once attempting to think of nothing, as he rode into the kingdom of the Lord Arthur in Wales. Shortly after dawn on the following day, however, he was drawn from his thoughts by a great commotion. 

It was the keep within which they had stayed several days past, and outside of it was a mounted knight, who was yelling many discourteous things up at the lady Adeline who was looking out from the window. When she saw him riding up and recognized him, she was greatly relieved, and did call out for him to help her.

Agravaine heard the words of the lady, though he wished he had not, for he still was unarmed. The knight, seeing this exchange, turned to address the man riding up.

“Why do you harass this Lady?” Agravaine asked him.

“She is the object of my deepest affection, though she gives me grief rather than joy, for I wooed her in person and by messages and gifts, but nothing could make her love me, and now I shall take her away with me at once. I doubt very much you can prevent me from this, and will contend with you to prove it.”

Agravaine did not wish to contend with this knight, but Adeline called for him to help her, and some sense of guilt moved him.

“I shall contend with you.” He said, making the appearance of confidence. “I have no fear of fighting you, for the sword I carry is magical, and shall without fail kill you in one stroke.”

The knight was discomfited by this, and called it unfair to have such an advantage. 

“You are right, it is unfair. But I have no other sword. I shall trade my sword for yours, if you will trade my horse for yours, for mine is tired and has ridden far,” Agravaine offered. He was very afraid that this charade would fail and he would be left with no recourse, but managed to keep a semblance of Arrogance.

The knight agreed to this deal, and first they exchanged horses. Then, Agravaine, without drawing the sword, unbelted the scabbard and handed it over to the man for his own sword. They prepared to do combat, but the knight drew and found only the broken hilt. Knowing himself thus to be tricked he was greatly angered, but as Agravaine was armed and himself not, he was forced to surrender. Agravaine was greatly cheered by this success, and began to believe that perhaps the situation he found himself in was not impossible to resolve. The other knight however was in the depths of despair, and had begun to weep.

“I am sure to perish now, for I have nothing,” said the knight. “Not my love, or my fine horse or my sword.”

“If you shall agree to ride to Listenisse and deliver a message, and then to never bother this Lady or any other again, I will trade you back your sword and your horse,” Agravaine offered, and the man agreed, and swiftly rode off with a message.

Adeline, rejoicing, departed the keep and ran out to greet him and thank him. She took him into the keep where he was very well and courteously attended, and his poor horse was fed and kept so kindly as to be fully restored. He stayed there the rest of the day, for he was greatly tired. Then a great dinner was served during which Adeline kept his company with charming conversation.

She told him all that was transpiring in the land, most notably that a great tournament was being hosted at the court of King Arthur, of which there was much excitement, for both Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot and Sir Yvain would be competing, and all were said to be the best knights living after the death of Sir Eric at the hand of Lady Enide. At the mention of Sir Gawain, she reminded him of their agreement.

One would think, Agravaine posited bitterly, that as to like how anything of which much is available has less monetary value, his brother's company would be, by the same principle, severely devalued. But it was not so, which Adeline told him as much. But letting this go, he asked her further about the tournament, for he had stumbled upon a course of action. 

She said she would arm him and help him enter the tournament unrecognized, and the next morning she did so, with the assistance of many attendants under her direction. He bathed and was dressed in fire clothes, and his hair, which was long and unruly, was cut. He was marvellously armed with new equipment, outfitted in shining armour the color of dark wine. His horse was brushed and equipped finely as well. No one of the court seeing him thus set out would say he was not as handsome as his brother, and taller, too.

Adeline, wanting to see Agravaines' promise fulfilled, and with several tricks still to try in his assistance, accompanied him on a fine black palfrey. Curiously, though she gave him a new sword to guard about his waist, she bid him continue to wear the other as well, promising that the use of it had yet to run its course.

They rode steadily since dawn, taking some degree of hurry as the tournament would commence at midmorning. They reached the court of king Arthur in Wales just before it was to begin to see there was a commotion at the gates, and Agravaine despaired to see that

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if u made it through that whole thing. holy shit. also yes i DID pull a story of the grail with the ending and i think its very funny of me


End file.
